That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. Michelle’s eyes darted around, she refused to look straight at Lucy. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death.
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